


Explanation

by orphan_account



Series: The Library [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 01:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The guards certainly took their time getting him up here. By now he’s shaking and there’s a cold chill spreading up the back of his neck. Even leaning hard on his prosthetic feels like it’s barely enough to hold him upright. But he’s all too familiar with blood loss to be scared.He’s been worse off and still lived.





	Explanation

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you read the tags!

“What did you do this time,” Ulaz says as the door to the examination room whooshes shut behind him. “You’ve weren’t to have been in the arena for the past week.” 

Shiro pants, a half formed thought about how and why Ulaz seems to always keep track of what he’s doing flits around the back of his mind, but he’s far too queasy to hold onto it. The long lines scored in his left arm burn and throb so fiercely he doesn’t dare flex his wrist, or really do anything more than let it rest in his lap. The sleeve of his jumpsuit is tattered up to the elbow, a dark gray stained a deep black clinging to the edges of his wounds. 

The guards certainly took their time getting him up here. By now he’s shaking and there’s a cold chill spreading up the back of his neck. Even leaning hard on his prosthetic feels like it’s barely enough to hold him upright. But he’s all too familiar with blood loss to be scared.

He’s been worse off and still lived.

Honestly, getting Ulaz as the doctor to look him over was some kind of lucky that Shiro didn’t really want to think too hard about. Ulaz was the only one on this ship, much less a doctor, who would understand when Shiro got around to explaining the train of thought that had led him to tuck a tiny chip of blade into his cheek during his last match. He would get the level of desperation that brought him to dig the metal bit deep into his arm on… what day of solitary?

Ulaz had just said he hasn’t been in the arena for a week, but how accurate is that? It didn’t matter. Too dark. Too quiet. Too many rough memories locked in with him. 

They watch each other in silence, Ulaz questioning and Shiro too drained, literally, to explain himself just yet. Ulaz gives in first and tugs open a drawer and pull out a suture kit. Shiro offers his arm and Ulaz wordlessly starts stitching him back together. 

“Would you at least tell me what you did this with?” Ulaz asks. He’s cleaned up all the blood, pushed Shiro onto his back on the table. Shiro squints against the bright overhead light, his head and arm throbbing in tandem whenever he glances at whatever glittering clear fluid is dripping into the iv in the back of his hand. “As much as I enjoy our time together, I’m not terribly keen on letting this become a habit.” 

“I left it in the room,” Shiro says, motioning with his right hand, the prosthetic, roughly how big the metal chip was. He thinks about how he felt in solitary, but the vibrant fear seems tame now that he’s staring into a light and Ulaz is gently rubbing circles on his scalp with his claws. Ulaz frowns deeply, brushes Shiro’s hair back from his face. 

“I’ll remind them they aren’t to leave you alone like that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> @quiddid on tumblr


End file.
